


Playing House

by Creatortan



Series: Kyman Week 2018 [6]
Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, M/M, Playing Pretend, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also cartman watches way too much daytime television, an overabundance of affection, butters is an absolute angel, theyre all very innocent and cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 03:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creatortan/pseuds/Creatortan
Summary: The boys played a wide assortment of games: laundromat, superheroes, detectives—so they had no qualms playing house.Just an innocent fic about a bunch of kids playing and probably taking the game a little too seriously.





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

> ahsdjfkg im crygin this is one of the best htings ive ever written cartman is so dramatic also im posting this at like 2am pray for me

The boys played a wide assortment of games: laundromat, superheroes, detectives—so they had no qualms playing house. They didn’t remember _who_ suggested the game first, but they were so eager to start playing it didn’t really matter. Cartman spearheaded the operation, excitedly acting as “home decorator”—standing and pointing _‘that goes there, and this goes here,’_ while the other three worked on organizing their toys on the grass.

“Why aren’t you helping us, fatass?” Kyle complained.

“I don’t know if you noticed, Kahl, but almost all of this shit is _mine,”_ Cartman retorted, his arms crossed. “So unless you want me to just _not_ let you use my stuff, I’d suggest you keep your big ginger mouth shut!”

And that was the end of that argument—not because Kyle conceded, but because Stan pulled him aside and told him to let it go so they could eventually get to the game.

Cartman had organized their playsets into what could vaguely resemble two “houses.” He stood proudly, surveying the setup, briefly adjusting things until they fit his vision.

“What now?” Stan asked.

“Great question, Stanley!” Cartman turned on his heel to face Stan. “Get over here.”

Stan complied, standing in front of Cartman. Cartman produced a slip of paper, the misspelled word “MARRAGE” scribbled in blue crayon as its header. Two sloppy x’s were stacked below it, lines extending horizontally for them.

“Sign this.” A marker materialized in Cartman’s hand, which he pushed into Stan’s. Stan, confused, obeyed, scrawling his name on one of the lines next to an x. Cartman, likewise, wrote his own name on the other line.

“What was that for?” Stan asked.

“I’m your wife now.”

Stan was overcome with a look of acute shock and befuddlement.

“Wait _what?”_

“Yeah, you were the star quarterback; I was the head cheerleader—it was only natural for us to get hitched directly out of highschool,” Cartman continued, his hands on his hips, their “marriage license” crinkling in his pudgy fist.

“What about us?” Kyle asked, pouting. Kenny was standing next to him, fiddling with a plastic toy kitchen.

“I’m getting there, Kahl!” Cartman yelled. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned back to Stan. “You’re such a deadbeat! How could you do that to us!”

“Do what?” Stan said, thoroughly lost.

“Give up your steady job to become a _freelance guitar player!”_ Cartman yelled, “First you waste all our money on _kale_ and the _homeless,_ and now you don’t even have a _job_ to support us! I can’t take this anymore, Stan! I’m leaving you for Kyle! _And_ I’m taking the baby!”

“Wh- _what baby?”_ Stan shrieked, overwhelmed by the onslaught of information.

 _“Our_ baby!” Cartman cradled his hands over his stomach. “The baby who was the _only_ reason I threw away my future to marry you! And now you can’t even take care of it!”

Cartman marched over to Kyle, throwing his arms around his neck and leaning into him.

 _“Kahl_ is my new hubby now! He’s a successful Jew doctor that knows how to take care of his family!”

Kyle grimaced, his wide eyes looking at Cartman’s theatrics. His body was stiff as Cartman clung to him, pointing at Stan accusingly. Cartman dramatically took the paper they'd just signed and ripped it in half.

“Kenny,” Cartman said. Ken looked up from the imaginary pot roast he was making. “You’re Stan’s wife now.”

_“Woo-hoo!”_

“Anyways,” Cartman released Kyle, “Kenny, you go get my costume box from my room; _I’m_ gonna go deliver a baby.”

Kenny rushed into Cartman’s house while Cartman walked off in the opposite direction down the street. Stan and Kyle looked at each other, concerned, bewildered, and completely unprepared for the turn of events.

Cartman came back a few minutes later, Butters in tow. Stan and Kyle were sitting on the ground, drinking juice boxes while Kenny rummaged through Cartman’s costume box, pulling out lots of pink, glittery things with glee.

“Oh, hey Butters,” Stan said, sipping his apple juice.

“Hey Dad!” Butters replied.

Stan choked on his juice, coughing.

“What?” he wheezed. Kyle slapped him on the back.

“Yeah! Eric—or, oops—I mean _Mom_ filled me in on the whole thing!” Butters smiled widely, “So you’re my dad now!”

“He’s your _no-good, deadbeat_ dad, Butters,” Cartman corrected gently, _“Kahl_ is your new, better step-daddy.”

Stan rolled his eyes.

“Kinny!” Cartman yelled, “Come get your lousy husband off of my yard!”

Kenny trotted over, sporting a braided blonde wig with a poofy blue skirt and a red checkered apron over his clothes. He urged Stan to his feet, grabbing his hand to pull him over to the smaller of the two pretend “houses.”

Slowly but surely, the game started to gain momentum. Kenny, Cartman, and Butters were all very eager to fill their new roles, but it took a while for Stan and Kyle to catch up.

Kyle walked into his “house,” taking off the fedora he’d put on over his ushanka and hanging it on the “coat rack” (a tree). Kyle sat in a beanbag they’d brought down.

“How was work today, babe?” Cartman said, putting down his nail file to walk over to Kyle. He kneeled behind the beanbag, resting his head and arms on the fabric next to Kyle’s head.

“Hard,” Kyle responded, “I had to operate on a guy who fused his arm to a bike tire because he crashed into a glue factory. His insurance didn’t cover it.”

“Sounds stressful, honeybun,” Cartman cooed, his hands coming to rest on Kyle’s shoulders. “You work so hard making us all that money~” Cartman began to massage his “husband’s” shoulders, a little clumily. Kyle sighed.

“Is dinner ready?” Kyle asked, melting into the chair.

“I got the chef to make your favorite!” Cartman gave Kyle a little peck on the cheek before scurrying off to set the “table” (an overturned box). He set out plates he took from his real-home pantry, serving them leftover KFC he found in his fridge.

Butters played with a toy plane while they all ate. Cartman exaggeratedly licked his thumb and leaned over to wipe the gravy off of Butters’s cheek, which made him squeal.

“Why don’t you ever cook anything homemade?” Kyle asked. Cartman gasped in mock surprise.

 _“Me?_ Cook?” Cartman scoffed, placing a napkin in his lap. “We have people for that. I’m just here to be your pretty trophy wife!” Cartman flipped his wavy blonde wig over his shoulder.

A few feet away, Stan had likewise come home from “work.” Kenny was at his side, helping him slip off of his jacket. Stan greeted his “wife” with a kiss on the cheek that made Kenny giggle.

“How was work?” Kenny asked. He’d taken his parka off to use as a throw pillow on their “couch” (the cushions and pillows they’d taken from the house).

“It was okay,” Stan replied, “Office work is boring, but okay. How was your day?”

Kenny walked to the “kitchen.” Retying his apron and stirring a wooden spoon into a pot.

“Oh, same-old, same-old,” Kenny replied, “The diner wasn’t _too_ busy, and I got a lot of tips!”

“That’s great!” Stan said with a smile. He slid up behind Kenny to wrap his arms around his waist. “Dinner smells great; what are you making?”

Kenny hummed. “Just some soup, nothing special.”

“Anything that’s made by you is special,” Stan said.

“Oh _you~”_ Kenny turned his head to kiss Stan’s cheek.

After “dinner,” all five of them went to “bed.” Cartman tucked Butters in and patted his head.

“Mom?” Butters said.

“Yes, dear?” Cartman replied.

“Can Papa Kyle read me a bedtime story?”

“Oh, dear, I told you—it’s just ‘Papa!’” Cartman turned, “Kahl! Get over here!”

Kyle, who had heard the entire conversation and _didn’t_ need to be yelled at, thank you very much, wandered over to Butters’s side. Butters looked up at him with his big, innocent blue eyes and handed him a copy of _Green Eggs and Ham_ , and Kyle kind of sighed as if he were annoyed, when really he found it incredibly endearing. Kyle sat next to Butters and read him the book until Butters, honest to god, _actually_ fell asleep, cuddling Clyde Frog and looking content as can be.

Cartman laid next to Kyle on a sleeping bag they opened up.

“So, if you and Stan were highschool sweethearts,” Kyle asked, he gestured to himself and Cartman, “How did _this_ happen?”

“Oh!” Cartman momentarily pulled out of character; he rolled over to face Kyle on the sleeping bag. “That’s easy. Me and Butters won a free cruise to the Bahamas. Butters was in the kiddie pool and I was sipping a blackberry mojito when you saw me from across the ship and _instantly_ fell for me—but I wasn’t charmed by your handsome face and doctor money.” Cartman sighed dreamily, “So you worked the whole trip to woo me and eventually I gave into your charms and agreed to go out on a date with you. Then we had a whirlwind romance and you proposed a month later.”

“A month?” Kyle asked, “Isn’t that kind of rushing things?”

“Not for true love, Kahl!” Cartman snapped, “Plus you were head over heels for me and I needed someone to support Butters so it really was a win-win.”

“How did Stan and Kenny meet?”

“Well,” Cartman reared up for another speech, “After I dumped Stan he was super depressed and he quit being a freelance guitar player and took up a super boring office job that he hates. After work he started going to a bar to drown his sorrows in beer because his life sucked and Kenny was a waitress at the bar and the town sweetheart and worked a bunch of jobs.” Cartman glanced over at the two, who were chatting and giggling in their own “bed.” “And they liked each other instantly and Stan started going to the bar just to talk to him and eventually he also started showing up at Kenny’s other jobs but he never asked him out because he’s a wuss but eventually he finally manned up and brought him a dozen roses on Valentine’s Day and they lived happily ever after.”

“If you hate Stan so much,” Kyle began, “then why does he get a happy ending?”

“Everyone deserves love, Kahl.” Cartman’s voice was matter-of-fact, “Even dumb hippies.”

“Huh,” Kyle said slowly, a little impressed, “You put a lot of thought into all this.”

“Thank you, Kahl.” Cartman grinned, proud.

Kyle wasn’t sure he meant it as a compliment.

They let Butters nap for another ten minutes while they began getting ready for the “day.” Cartman changed his makeup in a hand mirror and put on a different skirt. Kyle thought some of his makeup tools looked crazy, but Cartman seemed to know how to use them. Kyle didn’t have any perspective on if his makeup was good or not, but he kind of liked it. It was very glittery.

After Kyle left for “work,” Cartman went to Butters’s side and began to gently wake him up.

“Butters, sweetie, it’s time to get up,” he said sweetly, “It’s morning.”

Butters mumbled to himself before blinking his eyes open. He held Clyde Frog to his chest, looking around confusedly before remembering where he was.

“Morning already?” Butters said, “Oh boy! What’s for breakfast?”

“Papa wants us to eat healthy, so we’re having fruit salad.”

And by fruit salad, he meant fruit gummies poured into a bowl. Butters didn’t seem to mind.

“So, uh,” Butters asked, chewing on a mouthful of gummies, “Isn’t it Dad’s weekend to take me?”

Cartman glared into his bowl.

“Oh sure, if you _want_ to see that _deadbeat loser_ you can,” Cartman muttered bitterly.

“Aw, shucks, Mom, he’s not that bad anymore!” Butters said, “Kenny says he’s gotten a lot better! He doesn’t even drink anymore or nothin’! _And_ Kenny told me he’s gettin’ a promotion soon!”

“Fine,” Cartman huffed, “But I still don’t have to like him.”

When Kyle “came home” he and Cartman walked Butters over to Stan’s “house.”

“Take care of my son, deadbeat,” Cartman hissed at Stan.

“Will you stop calling me that?” Stan rolled his eyes. Butters hugged him and Kenny.

“Hiya, Dad! Hiya Kenny!” Butters said joyfully.

“Hey there, kiddo.” Kenny ruffled Butters’s hair.

“Well, Stan, I’m _glad_ you seem to be doing _fine.”_ Cartman flipped his hair, heavily leaning against Kyle again. “And _Kenny,_ I hope Stan is taking care of you, since he could never take care of _me._ But it’s okay, because now I have Kahl.”

Kyle frowned. He took Cartman’s hand in his own and angled them away from the others.

“We talked about this,” Kyle whispered. Cartman pouted.

“Just let me say one more thing,” Cartman whispered back. Kyle sighed but nodded.

“That’s _right,_ Stan!” Cartman exclaimed dramatically, placing his hand on Kyle’s chest, _“Kahl_ is better than you _ever_ were! He knows how to make me feel like a _real woman!”_

Kenny snorted, laughing into his fist. Stan and Kyle were lost. Butters was playing with his toy plane, completely oblivious to the “grown ups’” conversation.

“What does that even mean?” Stan whispered to Kenny. Ken just shushed him with an affectionate pat on his cheek.

They played in that way, going through the motions, Butters being traded periodically between the two “families.” Then after they got bored, they decided it was “December” because Butters wanted to throw a Christmas party.

They sat around their “tables” and made some decorations with construction paper. Kyle showed them how to make paper dreidels, and Butters drew hearts all over his. Cartman picked up on how to fold them surprisingly quickly.

“Oh! I invited over Dad and Kenny!” Butters said suddenly, scribbling the ornaments on a paper christmas tree. Cartman gasped.

“You _what?”_

“I thought it would be nice for us all to spend time together as a family!”

Cartman opened his mouth to speak, but Kyle put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“I think you did something very nice, Butters.” Kyle turned to Cartman. “We agreed you’d play nice, remember?”

Cartman huffed. “Yeah…” he mumbled, leaning to rest his cheek against Kyle’s shoulder.

Cartman and Kyle made “dinner” in their kitchen while Butters decorated Oreos and Girl Scout Cookies to look like snowmen and ornaments with frosting.

“Ding dong!” Kenny called out, holding onto Stan’s arm. Stan held a pot in his hands, and Ken had a bag in the crook of his elbow.

“You’re here!” Butters called, running to hug them with his frosting-covered fingers. Kenny, who was wearing Liane’s high heels, bent down to kiss him on the forehead.

“Welcome,” Cartman said frostily, a strained smile on his face.

“Hey,” Kyle said casually.

They had “dinner” first, mostly because it had been a while since their last snack and they were voracious little gluttons.

“There’s even some boring-ass salad for you, Stan,” Cartman said as he served Butters some dry Froot Loops. “Since I know you’re doing that bullshit vegan thing.”

“Actually, uh, I’m not vegan anymore,” Stan said, “I’m pescatarian, now, actually.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means he doesn’t eat any meat but fish,” Kyle interjected, spooning some pudding into his mouth.

“Seriously?” Cartman raised an eyebrow. “What about, like, milk and shit?”

“Well, me and Kenny were talking and it made me realize the futility of what I was doing,” Stan said, smiling at Kenny, sounding a little like he was repeating something someone told him, “Just me not eating cheese wouldn’t save cows, because it’s the big companies that are at fault, not the consumers,” Stan leaned over to Kenny and whispered, “Right?” Kenny nodded and Stan smiled. “But I still buy from local farmers!”

“Wow,” Cartman said shortly, impressed, “You lowered his hippie level from a nine to a solid six-point-five. Good job, McCormick.”

“Marsh, actually,” Ken responded with a grin. He held Stan’s hand on top of the table.

Kyle was a little worried Cartman would keep up his passive aggressive bullshit, but after the ice was broken, it seemed he didn’t give a single shit about Stan at all—not even to insult him. He and Kenny got along like a house on fire, chatting about makeup and fashion and other things Kyle didn’t understand.

Kyle and Stan ended up sitting next to each other, obviously, while Butters continued to draw.

“So, how’s married life?” Stan asked, nudging Kyle with his elbow. Kyle laughed and shoved him back.

“Cartman’s obnoxious as always, but it’s not _that_ bad, I guess,” Kyle replied, “So, pescatarian?”

“Yeah,” Stan laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “I still don’t want to like, eat _animals_ or whatever, but, you know...Kenny had some good points.”

“Look guys! Look at what I drew!” Butters excitedly held up a picture he drew of the five of them, all holding hands around a Christmas tree. “I drew one for everyone, so no one would feel left out!” He pulled out three more almost identical drawings. He handed one to Kyle and Stan, then scurried off to give them to Cartman and Kenny.

“Butters is like, really into this,” Stan said, watching how Butters preened under Kenny’s praise of the drawings. Cartman kissed his forehead and went to hang the picture on their toy fridge.

“It’s kind of nice, I guess.” Kyle said, “It’s probably because none of us have grounded him.” Kyle let out a little laugh.

“Ground him? How could we!” Stan replied, “He’s like—an angel! I don’t know how his real parents do it all the time. I mean, c’mon, just _look at him._ He doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“Kahl! My beautiful Jewish darling!” Cartman called, waving them over. Kyle’s face flushed as Stan snickered from next to him. “Come over here! We’re opening presents!”   

Kyle and Stan sat next to their respective “wives,” Kenny holding Stan’s hand, and Cartman slinging his legs over Kyle’s, nuzzling into his side. In all honesty, the clinginess should’ve bothered Kyle, game or no, but he...didn’t really mind all that much. It was probably because all of Cartman’s blubber made him really soft, and warm.

As the family baby, Butters got to open his gifts first. From Cartman and Kyle, he got...the same toy plane he was playing with before, along with a Hot Wheels car and a Polly Pocket doll and matching puppy. He hugged Kyle, then Cartman, in thanks, but when Cartman hugged him back, Kyle overheard him whisper to Butters.

“You can keep them.”

“Really?” Butters whispered back, loudly in his excitement.

“Yeah.”

Butters hugged Cartman again, tighter this time.

From Kenny and Stan, he got a frayed hacky-sack Kenny found in his pocket, and a drawing Stan did of the three of them as royalty in a castle. Butters hugged them too.

Between the “parents,” Kenny gave Stan a “bouquet”—dandelions and other little flowers he found in people’s gardens. In return, Stan gave Kenny a friendship bracelet he made.

Cartman handed Kyle a book he stole from Kevin Stoley, and Kyle, not realizing they were _actually_ giving gifts, panicked.

“Give me a second!” He quickly kissed Cartman on the cheek and then ran in the direction of his house.

(In all honesty, Cartman was so happy with the kiss he would’ve taken _that_ as his gift.)

When Kyle came back, he had a purple scarf his mom had gotten him from a sale at Target. Kyle hated it, because the purple looked _awful_ with his green ushanka, but it was kinda pretty so he thought Cartman would like it. Cartman immediately wrapped it around his neck.

“Oooh, is this Prada?” Cartman asked.

“Uh...sure?” Kyle responded, out of breath.

The game continued after “Christmas.” The two families were on better terms, and they worked together to help Butters when he started “school.” Cartman became head of the PTA and gossiped with Kenny about how tacky the other moms were.

“Hey!”

They all looked up to the voice.

“What are you guys doing?” It was Clyde. He was walking with Craig and Tweek.

“We’re playing house!” Stan called back.

“Oh cool!” Clyde said. Craig looked panicked for a second, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by Clyde. “Can we play?”

Craig slapped his forehead.

The five boys looked at each other, having a mental conversation. They shrugged.

“Sure!” Stan called back. Clyde cheered and ran over. Craig and Tweek reluctantly followed.

“Me and Stan are exes, but I’m married to Kyle and Stan is married to Kenny now,” Cartman explained, “Also Butters is mine and Stan’s son.”

“Oh! Cool!” Clyde turned to Tweek and Craig. “You two can be my parents!”

“Okay, good,” Cartman nodded, “Tweek you can be the wife.”

“Hnn— _I_ want to be the husband!” Tweek cried.

“Why do _I_ have to be the wife?” Craig said, “Why can’t I be a husband too?”

“Because we’re playing house Craig!” Cartman snapped, “You need a husband and a wife and a baby!”

“But we’re all boys,” Craig pointed out.

“Yeah, but me and Kenny are wives!” Cartman crossed his arms.

“But gay couples exist.” Craig argued.

“God! Fine! You can be a gay couple!” Cartman exclaimed.

“Cool.”

“But now we need your backstory—”

All the boys groaned.


End file.
